Synopsis: Set right after 7.13 “Slice Girls”, Dean’s having nightmares about Emma and has a serious talk with himself, Sam is having real trouble telling what’s really happening; they come to a solution that works for both of them.

Warnings: Short reference to previous non-con, spoilery up to and including 7.13.

He wakes suddenly, torn out of another nightmare replay of Sam shooting Emma, her pleading face emblazoned on the inside of his eyelids, maybe forever at the rate he’s going. Gasping, he sits up and looks around their latest squat. This time it’s a really nice house in a suburb, garage big enough for the notPala to hide in. One of those zillions of repossessed, foreclosed-upon homes that they’ve found are oh so very available all over the country now. For some reason the water and power are still on, and this house is the last on the block, back up against some woods, set off from the neighbors so they most likely won’t be noticed if they have lights on at night. Dean gets up and quickly puts his boots back on, grabs his jacket and heads out back, staring up at the bright full moon, trying to shake off the nightmare. Wishing he could pray, ask for help and guidance. But he can’t bring himself to. There isn’t anyone to answer and he knows that.

Dean sighs heavily, hating the sound of despair he hears coming along with the sigh. He knows Sam did the right thing, did what needed to be done, and did what he couldn’t do. He hates being a hypocrite like this, really hates it about himself. He knows Sam gets it, knows he isn’t mad at him or anything, but then there’s what he asked him to do in the car a couple nights ago. Well, Dean hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it for days. The way Sam pretty much pleaded with him not to let himself get killed. Is that what he was doing? Trying to get himself killed?

Vaguely remembering the night with Lydia, he’s not 100% sure that he did use protection every time. And that’s not like him. He’s never done that, not in his whole lifetime’s worth of one-night stands. Sure it had been a really long time and he was out of practice and she was well, hot as an Amazon, or whatever, but now that he’s thinking about it, maybe there was a self-destructive edge to what he did that night.

He remembers back to that night he thought Bobby was killed by the Leviathans, standing in the smoking ruins of the scrap yard, the message he left for Bobby. “I swear if you’re not here, I’m going to strap my Beautiful Mind brother into the car and drive off the pier.” Is he suicidal or something, and he just doesn’t know it? Is that even possible not to be conscious of having made that choice? Because he can’t remember having that conversation with himself, sure he’s been drinking a lot, but he’d recall making a decision like that.

Dean spins around, hugging himself against the cold night, walks down the lawn, and sits down on a bench at the edge of the woods, staring off into the darkness forcing himself to keep thinking about this. He’s got to get this worked out. For Sam. It’s all about him really. Because that’s one thing Dean can admit to himself freely that he truly is only here, doing this because of Sam. Otherwise, who knows what he’d have done if Sam hadn’t come out of the coma or whatever it was after Cas broke his wall. Would he really have just given up and killed himself, ended it all, all the pain and guilt, sent himself back to Hell where he belongs? No, he wouldn’t have at that point, of course not, because Bobby was still alive.

Huh, so that’s what’s changed, Bobby’s dead, gone. Sure there’s a chance he’s a ghost, but that’s not enough, not the same thing. Dean remembers Bobby showing them that bullet and telling him that he made the choice every day not to kill himself with it because of Sam and Dean. He realizes it was the same thing for him, he didn’t off himself because of Bobby and Sam, needing to be there with them to the end. But Sam’s all that’s left now. And Sam’s everything to him if he’s honest with himself.

The only reason he was at that bar in the first place was because he was trying to get back to being the Dean that Sam seemed to need. Trying to recapture the carefree, vital, carnal person he used to be, hoping that might be enough to keep Sam here with him, instead of losing him completely to Lucifer. But it didn’t work did it? Screwing that woman felt good, but it didn’t feel right, and then look what came of it. So yeah, definitely no more one-nighters, no matter how gorgeous or easy the woman. Because he’s got Sam to live for, to think of. And that’s got to be enough for him now. That’s all he’s got at this point. Making sure that Sam’s okay has been his life’s work, and if Sam’s life isn’t over, then neither is his.

So no, Dean decides right then and there, giving himself a pep-talk “I’m not suicidal. I’m definitely grieving Bobby, I’m beyond sad about Cas, I’m guilty about Lisa and Ben and everything else, I’m worried about the Leviathans, but I’m not suicidal. I do have something, someone, to live for, to make my life have meaning. And yeah honestly, it’s going to be hard, to not have regular sex for the rest of my life, but I’ll give that up, if that’s what’s required. It won’t be so bad, because I love him so much, he’ll just have to deal with me hanging around the rest of his life whether he needs me or not.”

And that’s when it hits him, what’s made this all happen recently, his wanting to be something different, more like his old self. It was when Sam told him back in Delaware that “hey now you can have your own life for once.” That was when he started to crack. Because he doesn’t want to have his own life, separate and apart from Sam. He really really doesn’t want anything like that. He wants to be with Sam for, well forever. And obviously Sam doesn’t know that or he wouldn’t have said such a thing to him. The dawning light of realization hits him, that he needs to be clear with Sam about it, that Sam deserves to know, maybe it would be more reassuring than when Dean answered Sam’s “don’t kill yourself” plea with “I’ll try my best” that he really meant “of course I will, I’m not going anywhere”.

Just as he’s come to the conclusion that he needs to figure out how to bring up such a huge topic, he hears quiet footsteps approaching and looks up to see Sam, barefoot, clad only in his pajama pants and a stretched-out t-shirt. “Dean, you okay out here?” Sam asks quietly, a little hesitant to interrupt Dean, because he’s out here in the middle of the night, sitting on this bench, looking like he’s working on figuring out the world’s problems.

Sam sits down on the bench next to him, and Dean can feel his heat warming the air between them even through his jacket, so he smiles at Sam, “Hey, yeah, I’m okay, I was just about to come back in. Where’s your shoes dude?”

Sam clasps his hands together, twisting them, pressing into the scar on his palm in that unconscious unceasing tell that Lucifer is on his case again. Dean’s heart falls a little, thinking about Sam waking up all alone from a nightmare without him in the house, “Uh, I woke up and you weren’t there, and I, well, I was worried and went and looked for you everywhere. Guess I forgot about the details of putting on shoes.”

So it’s going to be easy to bring this up after all, Dean’s a little relieved, “Sam I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know.” Sam answers quickly, but Dean can tell he’s not really getting what he means. So he puts his arm around Sam’s waist and pulls him in close, so he can tell him, face to face under this wide open moon-lit sky , tell him the truth, tell him so that he understands, that he means it, means it with everything he is, “No, really Sam, I’m not going anywhere, ever. Not without you.”

Sam’s only response is to put his own arm around Dean and lay his head on his shoulder, kind of collapsing into his side. Dean thinks that must be a good thing at first, but then he notices that Sam is shaking and asks softly, “Hey, are you crying?”

Sam looks up at him, beautiful face traced with tears catching the moonlight, gilding his face silver, Dean aches suddenly with how other-worldly Sam looks right now, tears glittering, face shining with love, he’s really there, he can see his Sam looking back at him. “Yeah, I’m crying Dean, course I am.” Dean reaches over with a thumb, gently tracing through the tear-tracks, cupping Sam’s cheek in his hand. Sam leans into it and sighs.

Dean asks softly, even though he thinks he already knows the answer, “Why Sammy?”

“I’m happy.” It’s all he can manage to say at this point, because he’s overwhelmed with what Dean’s just told him. So relieved that he won’t have to learn to live without him somehow whether it’s because he’s dead or just living apart from him. Just knowing that his brother has decided this, and believing it so completely. Knowing deep in his bones that they’ll not be parted is making this joy bubble up, uncontainable, a fizzing delight buzzing through him with the thought of having Dean with him always.

“What are you so happy about?” Dean’s glad that Sam seems to have really heard him, but he’s not sure why it’s made Sam so damn happy. Was he really that worried that Dean was going to up and leave him, or be reckless enough to get killed on a hunt or something? Now he feels even worse for what he did with Lydia, it must have been so hard for Sam. Dean doesn’t move his hand away from Sam’s face leaving it there, Sam practically purring as he relaxes even more into Dean’s touch.

Sam looks up and meets Dean’s eyes and grins, answering him with a simple, “You.” Because that’s really what this is about for Sam, Dean is everything to him, always has been, always will be. He can’t say that of course, because they don’t do that kind of thing, but that’s what he puts behind that single word when he says it now to his brother.

Dean hears him, even what went unsaid, and answers with his own grin. He rubs his thumb back and forth on Sam’s cheekbone, feeling the warmth of his skin, rubbing the gritty saltiness of the tears into the softness, lightly stroking the new lines by his eyes showing just how much Sam’s aging. Sam’s aging, how damn wonderful is that? And the thought of how awesome that is makes the brittle cage around his heart break and his chest suddenly warms up with the heat of all that joy being released, “I’m happy too.”

“You are?”

“Yeah, feels good to finally tell you that, you know?”

“I do know. Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For telling me. I know you don’t like talking about stuff like that, so thanks.”

Dean shakes his head, smiling at Sam fondly, “Such a girl Sammy.”

And since it’s such a different sort of night out here under the moonlight, Sam flexes his bare feet, grabbing onto the wet, cold grass with his toes, grounding himself in the Earth before he throws himself off into the unknown, “ ’m your girl Dean.”

Dean laughs in delighted surprise, “That you are Sammy, that you are.”

Sam’s not sure if Dean’s still teasing or not, and risks a question that he tries to make sound lightly teasing but utterly fails, “Oh am I now?”

“Always have been.”

“Not really a girl Dean.”

“Yeah I know, but you’re still mine.”

“Yeah, I knew that. Are you mine though?”

“You really wanna know?”

More than anything Sam does, he wants to know after all these years together, of course he wants to know, doesn’t care about anything else at this point. “Course I do.”

“Yeah I am, figured it out tonight.”

“Did you now?”

“Uh huh, and I’m good with it.”

“With what?”

“I’m good with being with yours.”

Sam wants to ask him for details, find out what’s changed, how did he come to this momentous conclusion, but he doesn’t, not wanting to push Dean away, so he answers, “Good, me too.” And he pulls Dean into a full hug, relishing the weight of his brother’s body held against his, this physical proof that they’re still alive, and still together after everything is underlying the answering heat of his body’s response to having Dean in his arms.

He can’t help himself from leaning down and covering Dean’s lips with his, capturing them in a warm, dry kiss. He feels an unlocking in his chest, maybe somewhere even deeper, a circuit completing, all his nerve endings lit up with a fire he hasn’t felt in years. He hears Dean moan softly and feels his brother’s mouth open slightly to let the sound out and takes advantage swiping in with his tongue, gently probing, gasping himself at the heat and the taste. He returns the moan and brings his hands up to hold the back of Dean’s head, turning him just so, now that they’re fitted together so perfectly he can deepen the kiss, humming with happiness into his brother’s mouth. After several long minutes (hours?), Dean breaks the kiss with a groan, and breathily asks him, “Want to go back in? Your feet must be freezing.”

“Yeah, I do, gonna warm them up for me?”

Dean answers with a sly, almost shy smile, “You know it.”

They slowly stand up together, not letting go of each other for a second. Dean pulled in tight to Sam’s side. “Hold on for a second Dean.” Sam turns and holds him still with both hands tightly gripping both biceps. He looks Dean up and down, the moonlight making him look somehow even more beautiful than usual. “You’re real right? This is really happening, right Dean?”

Dean stomach swoops down with sadness and all he can do is answer him with a fierce full-body hug, picking Sam up off the ground completely and setting him down slowly, arms holding on tightly, aligning their bodies perfectly, thrusting his hips forward into Sam’s so that they can feel each other’s hardness. “You feeling me Sam?”

“Uh huh. I hear you Dean.” Sam whispers back to Dean “you’re mine, all mine.”

“Can you smell it Sam? Smell where we are out here together, under the moon, by the woods?”

“Yeah, smell’s good out here, like it, can smell you too Dean, you smell really really good.” Sam nuzzles into Dean’s neck taking in his scent with a deep sigh.

“How about this, can you see me Sam, really take a look.” Dean’s face is so close to Sam’s when he looks up that he’s surprised, but he can see everything, all of it, right there in his brother’s eyes. No walls, no hiding, just the love that’s always been there.

Sam blinks slowly, committing the look he’s just seen on his brother’s face to his favorite memory file. “Never seen you look like this Dean. Always wondered what you’d look like.”

Dean hmphs at that. “Look like what?”

Sam pulls in on himself and pleads, almost whines, “Don’t make me say it.”

“Sammy c’mon.” Dean’s too curious for his own good sometimes, but he’s got to know, he can tell it’s important.

Sam takes a deep breath and says quickly all in a rush, “Ialwayswonderedwhatyou’dlooklikewhenyouwereinlove.”

Dean can’t help himself he starts laughing, embarrassed as all get-out, “Guess I need a mirror or something, because I don’t think I’ve ever seen it myself.”

Sam’s trying not to bristle at Dean’s laughing, so he says seriously “It’s a good look on you Dean, real good.”

Dean looks at him, a little stunned, and smiles slowly, “You too.”

“Okay, last one, ready Sammy?” Dean reaches up and pulls Sam down into another kiss, this one deeper, more searching and filled with his longing for Sam to know how real this is, how much it means, how much he wants it to mean to Sam.

Breaking away slightly from the kiss, Dean murmurs into the breath between their lips, “How about that Sammy, what are you tasting?”

“You, just you Dean. God you taste so damn good.”

Dean drops his hands from Sam’s head and holds his hands, squeezing them tight so that he’ll have his full attention and asks him seriously, “When you’re hallucinating do you usually get all the senses covered Sam?”

Sam tilts his head as he considers, “No, maybe a couple of them, but no, not all of them, not all at once like this.”

“So, why are you questioning whether this is real or not then Sam?”

“I guess ‘cause it’s what I want, and I, just don’t get what I want.”

“Sammy how can I prove it to you? It’s me, really me, I’m here, you’re here, you want this, so do I, so what’s the damn issue?”

“No issue, it’s just hard to trust something so good I guess. I’ve been so messed up, you don’t know the half of it. You have to give me a second to adjust or something, ‘kay?” he pleads with Dean, hoping he’ll understand he’s not saying no, he’s just saying hold on a second.

“No, I’m not doing that. No way. Not gonna be that way. It’s not what you need.” Dean drops to his knees holding Sam’s ass tightly, squeezing hard into the muscles. He quickly pulls down Sam’s soft pajama pants and boxers and instantly presses his face into the top of his thigh where it meets his crotch, nuzzling and biting the soft skin there. Sam almost collapses from the intensity of this feeling, so real, so good, so out of nowhere. Something he’s always wanted, never let himself hope for and here it is happening. At least he’s pretty sure it’s happening.

“Oh god Dean, that, oh that feels so good, please don’t stop.” Dean looks up and grins at him with a hungry , feral look, “Not stopping for anything Sammy.” And he dives back in to start licking at Sam’s cock, sucking and swirling at the head, taking it in as far as he’s able to, pumping the base of it, starting up a rhythm. It doesn’t last long, it’s just too good, Sam’s coming before he can even warn Dean, the heat and strength of his release causing Dean to lose it too. He cleans Sam up licking him softly, and pulls his pants back up for him.

Sam reaches down and hauls Dean up to standing, taking his mouth again. Kissing him breathless with thankyou and mine and Dean said into his mouth with every kiss. Dean’s head is spinning with how fast this has all happened, and they’re still outside, under the moon, and Sam’s beyond beautiful, barefoot and cold, and he’s got his own come cooling in his jeans. Just like that everything’s changed.

“Sam you okay now?”

“mhm? Oh yeah, definitely.”

“No more issue with whether this is real?”

“No, Lucifer never did that for me, he’d always make me do it to him when he was being you though.” Sam tells him without really thinking, brain still offline from coming so hard just a second ago.

Dean’s hit with an immediate wave of guilt that he’d just practically forced himself on his brother after he’d said no, god is he as bad as Lucifer making Sam just take it? “Oh god, Sammy, shit he did that to you? Of course he did. Damn it, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you like that, if I’d known I would’ve stopped, I wouldn’t have made you, shit I’m so sorry.”

“Dean, it’s okay, nothing to be sorry for. You didn’t make me do anything. It’s the only thing that would’ve worked, really, it was so damn good, feels like you blew him out of my mind or something.” Sam smiles down at Dean pulling him in even closer.

“Really?” Dean sounds so hopeful, wanting so much to take this grace being offered.

“Yes Dean, you’re just that good.” Sam rolls his eyes because his brother can’t see his face.

Dean has to chuckle at how quickly Sam’s gone back to his confession tonight, he guesses it was a pretty big one so it’s okay, “Back to that already huh?”

“Yeah of course, that’s what all this was about wasn’t it?”

“Pretty much I guess.” Dean tries to shrug and roll it off his shoulders, but yeah, it was a big deal for him to figure it out much less actually say it, but he’s glad he did and he sure as hell isn’t taking it back anytime soon.

“Glad it’s settled, can we go back in now? I can’t feel my feet anymore.”

“Well who’s bright idea was it to run around outside with no shoes on? C’mon let’s go.”

They walk up the lawn to the back door, arms around each other, bumping their hips together on every other step. Sam follows Dean up the stairs to the room they’re crashing in and pulls his sleeping bag over to zip it together with Dean’s.

“What’re you doing?” Dean asks, wondering what the hell Sam is messing around with their bags for now, he just wants to crash and get some more sleep.

Sam answers matter-of-factly, like it should be plainly obvious, “Making a bed for us.”

Dean just shakes his head and smiles at his brother thinking of this now, of course he would the big girl, “Oh, okay, just no kicking me, or I’m unzipping you dude.”

“I’m gonna sleep like a rock, don’t worry. And this way I’ll be able to return the favor when I wake up in the morning.” Sam gets in the bag and holds the other side of it up inviting Dean to get in.

Dean climbs in and feels the warmth of his brother already spreading to his side of the bag, except for his cold cold feet which he wraps up with his, “hmh, sounds good, guess I know what I’m dreaming about the rest of the night then.”

“Goodnight Dean.” Sam smiles wide enough for Dean to see in the dark room, white teeth lit up with the little moonlight coming in the window.

Dean gives him one more kiss, wanting to taste that beautiful smile, full of moonlight and Sam, “’night Sammy.” He settles down next to Sam shoulder to shoulder with just their feet touching and starts to drift off to thoughts of being woken up with Sam’s mouth working him, and hopes that this wasn’t all a dream.

Sam turns to him and says quietly, “Dean, you do know this wasn’t all a dream.”

Dean looks over and asks in surprise, “What are you reading my mind now?”

Sam reaches out and holds Dean’s cheek, caressing back and forth, “No, I just know you. And this really happened, and it’s a good, a really good thing, and we’ll work everything out tomorrow. Just let me hold you ‘til I fall asleep, okay?”

“I knew it, you’re a damn cuddler. Fine, just for tonight.” Sam laughs at Dean’s fake grumbling as he rearranges their bodies, wrapping his arms around, pulling Dean in close, so his head is resting near the top of Dean’s. His face is turned into Sam’s collarbone, soft breath slowly evening out as he drifts into sleep. So he completely misses Sam whispering into his hair, “Not just for tonight, this is for forever Dean.”

Wow thank you very much! That ending was hard, so I'm glad to hear you liked it. I almost didn't keep it, but I just had that whole zipping the sleeping bags together image and I couldn't let it go, too symbolic you know?

Great story. I loved how you protrade the boys, each one struggling with their issues. And finally coming to terms with what they mean to each other. I loved the ending and Sams comment at the end. Beautiful.